


Tell the World I'm Coming Home

by AhoySailor



Series: Where We Have Come [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Engagement Party, Established Relationship, F/M, Henrietta - Freeform, M/M, Marriage, St. Agnes, The Barns, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AhoySailor/pseuds/AhoySailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew is getting married, which prompts Ronan, Adam, and their son to return to Henrietta for the weekend</p><p>(or that fic where Adam takes a walk down memory lane)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell the World I'm Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> "It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you" - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Adam hadn't meant to pull his car into the dusty dirt parking lot of the church. His mother-in-law had been in the middle of making a fancy dinner for her youngest son’s engagement party, when she had realized she did not have the required kosher salt for, ironically,  _salt_  roasted chicken. He got half way into town before Aurora called and announced that nor did she have the lemon juice or the fresh thyme. When he asked if she actually had  _anything_  for the meal, he got a laugh followed by the dial tone. 

He had already gone to the local farmer's market and picked up the thyme, and was on route to the green grocers', he swears, but . . . he was 17 again suddenly. Driving the shitty Hondayota through the crappy roads of his dust-covered hometown, aching to get out of there, to leave the memories and the pain in his rearview mirror.

Adam had long ago sworn that the closest he would get to Henrietta was the Barns. Yet . . .

His curiosity had gotten the best of him. The roads were familiar in a way that none of Manchester's were; he knew every bend and bump and road sign, every damn tree and bush and flower. The brown grass was still dead with the inscrutable heat of a Virginia summer, the playground equipment just as rusty as it had been when Adam was young and enjoying the facility, nothing like the sleek and shiny Manchester playgrounds Adam’s son played on.

 As he drove down the achingly familiar streets and side roads, his muscles knew just where to go to get . . . well, home. He knew the bends in the road and the never-quite-filled potholes, the ones that—when filled—just got worse than they had been before. Though instead of paddling his bike through the scorched streets or forcing his Hondayota to chug along, he journeyed through them in his Audi, enjoying the air co but not his sweaty legs on the leather seats. He didn’t have to wear himself at his three jobs the next day, didn’t have to worry about whether or not he would have enough money for rent or grocery. Wasn’t concerned about university or Aglionby or if he would be  _good enough_. Because his rags-to-riches story was finished now.

Nor was he as alone as he once thought, as evident by the blue child’s car seat in his backseat, the toys belonging to the child that regularly sat in said seat thrown askrew by the restlessness of the long car ride to the Barns, and the iPad Mini ensconced inside a plush teddy bear case, an electronic Brayden would certainly be asking for in a little bit if he wasn’t already. The silver, vine-enscribed ring on his left hand. The distinct lack of hopelessness.

He didn’t know what he was doing until his car tires suddenly hit gravel and he jerked the gear shift into  _park_.

His heart beat wildly in his chest as he stared up at St. Agnes, his one-time home, with its warped clapboard siding and general feeling of Small Town. Besides the Honda CR-V in the parking lot next to him, nothing about the church had changed. The only thing that was any different in this situation was Adam himself.

He had left Henrietta—and St. Agnes and the trailer park and Aglionby—behind him, disappearing in the dust that swam up behind Ronan’s BMW. He had graduated Aglionby with honors, spent every year at Harvard on the Dean’s List, nabbed all the best internships his law professors could find, graduated with the highest of honors. Married Ronan.

_Married Ronan._

Rose in the ranks of Cambridge Law Offices, until he caught the attention of Nixon Peabody, the best law firm in New England. Moved himself and his husband to Manchester, had Brayden, make a life for himself and his little family in the suburbs. Adam had all he wanted, all he had ever wanted—yet, here he was. Back in Henrietta.

His eyes climbed up the rickety wooden steps to the apartment he had once resided in, and he could vividly remember the many times he had come home from work to find Ronan sprawled across the top three steps, pretending to be passed out drunk or  _actually_  passed out drunk. Walking into the door for the first time, one working ear and a new-found respect for Ronan. Closing the same door behind him for the last time, bags packed and a map to Cambridge in his hand.

Both he and Ronan had drastically changed, he discovered, now that he was back where they had first met.

Not that he hadn't noticed it over the thirteen years they had been together. It was just less obvious experiencing it as you went along, how you don't notice the change in someone's appearance over time if you see them every day. It was less obvious how Ronan's sharp corners became rounded edges the further he got away from his father's death and his self-hatred, the fear of his dreams, of himself. Less often how laugh lines gathered around both of their eyes, his snake-like features ( _if this snake bit you, you had no one to blame but yourself,_  Adam thought) softened by each bout of laughter Brayden spouted, each meal they cooked together while listening to Irish music and dancing along, each wedding anniversary that took them closer and closer to forever.

Adam fiddling with his wedding band, an anxious habit he adapted while waiting for the verdict to come down in court. It grounded it, he thought. Made him realize that, no matter the outcome, he would go home to Ronan and Brayden—his family.

Because now, unlike when he lived above the St. Agnes rectory, he actually _had_ a family.

* * *

 

The Barns, when Adam walked in through the front door, was similar to when he had left it— _loud_. On any given normal day of the year, Niall's magical kingdom was only occupied by a permanently awoken Aurora Lynch and the similarly awoken animals. But thanks to Matthew's upcoming nuptials, it now housed about fifteen-times that.

Gansey and Blue, the matching Oxford professors, had taken a leave of absence to make it to the wedding. With them came their fourteen month-old son Noah, named so after their ghostly friend who had departed after they found Glendower and was greatly missed, a little boy who was currently running around in his diaper wearing the itty-bitty boat shoes Gansey had purchased at the behest of said child's mother. Declan and his girlfriend/Baby Mama Orla, Blue's cousin who didn't really get less annoying with age, and their daughters—Embree, at eight years old being Aurora’s first grandchild and the reason Declan skipped two years of university, McKinley, four, and Remy, three. Orla had all but forced Declan to get “neutered,” as Ronan referred to it just to spite the eldest Lynch, by giving him two options—medically, or with chloroform and a kitchen knife on their dining room table. Needless to say which he chose, really. 

Ronan and Adam of course, carting along Brayden, who Adam didn't see immediately upon entering the house (he hoped Embree wasn't boiling him over a fire). Adam continued further into the home.

He dodged Gansey and his tyrannical progeny as the former, quite fast for someone who couldn't even three months ago, beat his chubby legs into the kitchen. 

"Noah!" his father called after him. "You can't run around in your diaper, it's improper!"

"But Dick," Ronan's voice called from somewhere within the bowels of the house, "he's wearing boat shoes! How much more proper can he get?"

Adam followed Gansey into the kitchen, where he saw Aurora slaving away at the stove with her blonde hair in an elegant bun atop her head and a dish towel tossed over her shoulder. Beside her stood Matthew's fiancee—wife, in two weeks—Kimberley. Though when the two interacting it was plain they were love, she was not the kind of girl Adam would have pictured Matthew marrying, or even dating. She was full-figured and busty, sporting wide hips and thick thighs and a face that wasn't thin but also couldn't be called round. Her hair was truly a thing of beauty, long and golden, and her eyes a shade of blue similar to that of her fiancee's. Like Matthew, she was kind and warm-heartedly, though shy where Matthew was outgoing and lively. Both were recent graduates of Columbia University, he having received his Bachelor's of Psychology and she her Bachelor's of Studio Art. 

Adam, when his mind wandered, pictured Matthew with a girl similar to Blue—tiny, crazy, wild-haired. Then again, he never really pictured himself with Ronan either. The best things in life are surprises, he supposes. 

He set the bag of groceries on the counter and gave his mother-in-law a kiss on her cheek. "Dinner haS arrived, beloved Sleeping Beauty."

Aurora laughed, like chiming bells, and patted Adam's arm. "Thank you, Adam. I really appreciate it."

Adam waved her off. "Don't mention it." The next part he directed to Kimberley: "Anything for the next Lynch marriage."

The blonde blushed and laughed, which she did often. As did Matthew.

"Getting cold feet yet, Kimberley?" he asked her, almost shouting to be heard over the squealing coming from downstairs.

She shook her head. "No." A smile broke her face. "I love Matthew."

"Daddy!" came the cry of his son. Within seconds of the sound small arms were wrapped around his legs. He looked down, arms immediately coming around Brayden's shoulders. "Embree says she's going to sacrifice me to the lake!"

Both Aurora and Adam gave mighty sighs at the oldest Lynch grandchild's scare tactics. 

Adam picked his son up, holding him on his hip. "Come on, bud. I'll save you from the big, bad eight year-old."

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about making a seperate fic or perhaps a series about Matthew and Kimberley; should I?


End file.
